


Overcome

by randi2204



Series: Wings Over Aces [1]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan thinks he's reading more into Josiah's pain than there is. He's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mendax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendax/gifts).



> This actually takes place _before_ ... Over Aces, but it was written after.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy. Not mine, no money.

Josiah was… jumpy, Nathan decided, watching him close.  _Twitchy._   He braced himself more firmly against the shingles, not wanting to slide down the church roof.  _No, sir,_ he thought, _got no plans for broken bones today…_

 

He very resolutely did _not_ think of the change that had swept over him just a few days ago and how that change might save him.

 

In the midst of reaching for the sack of nails, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye.  When he looked, Josiah was rubbing the back of his neck, wearing a deep frown. 

 

Now _that_ was too blatant a reminder.  He’d had a similar pain before… before what had happened had happened, and he didn’t like thinking about how out of sorts he’d been.  Hell, he’d nearly snapped Ezra’s head off.  _Well, maybe that happens more’n I’d like to admit,_ he thought, guilt thrumming at his conscience when he thought of Ezra’s shocked expression.  _Still, there weren’t no call for it that time.  S’pose I should be grateful he took my apology… afterwards._

 

He forced those thoughts away and focused back on the here-and-now.  Josiah’s hand still lingered on his neck, and his long face was looking more than a little pained.  “Y’all right, Josiah?” he asked.

 

Taking his hand away from his neck, Josiah sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a long, gushing sigh before answering.  “Yes, I’m fine.” He rolled his shoulders and shifted over to work on another section of the roof.

 

Nathan blew out his breath softly and didn’t badger him anymore.  _Ain’t your place to force treatment down a man’s throat,_ he argued with himself.  _Just… awful hard to see a friend sufferin’ like that._   Sneaking glances, he noticed how Josiah was trying to hammer in the nails without swinging from the shoulder like he usually did.

 

 _‘Member that I didn’t wanna lift up my arms on the third or fourth day_ , he thought.  _Reckon that might be about where he’s at._   As soon as the idea had crossed his mind, he shook his head; he couldn’t accept what had happened to him as a valid explanation for what Josiah was feeling.  _Ain’t likely to be the same thing at all,_ he told himself, pounding the nail home.  _Ain’t happened to nobody else here, anyway.  He prob’ly just pulled a muscle._

 

Without warning, Josiah laid his hammer down, one big hand holding it against the shingles so it wouldn’t slide down the pitch of the roof.  “Just… I didn’t think that pain was contagious,” he said, with a ghost of a grin.  “Whatever it was that was wrong with your shoulders last week, it’s settled onto me.”  Awkwardly, he hunched so that he could massage the back of his neck and shoulders with his free hand.  “Feels like I’ve got a boulder pressin’ down on my back,” he said, then his face twisted in thought. “Or… I guess it’s more like there’s a boulder _inside…_ ” He shook his head.  “Ignore me,” he added, his tone suddenly very short.  “I’m not makin’ any sense.”

 

Shifting carefully on the rough shingles, Nathan tucked his hammer through his belt, waited to speak until he’d tamped down everything but the desire to _help_.  “Can make up a poultice,” he said, more to the roof than Josiah.  “Maybe ease some of that pain for ya.”

 

Josiah glanced at him and, smiling slightly, said, “That’d be a kindness.”  He then squinted up at the sky.  The sun was starting to sink west, but there was still plenty of light, so Nathan was a little surprised to hear him say, “Reckon we can call it a day up here.”

 

Josiah had already reached the ladder and started climbing down before Nathan found his voice again.  “It’ll take a while to get that poultice made.”

 

The big man looked up and forced a toothy grin.  “I thought it might.  I’m going into the church to meditate for a spell. I’ll be there whenever it’s ready.” He disappeared down the ladder.

 

 _Won’t say nothin’_ , Nathan told himself over and over as he followed Josiah down the ladder.  _It don’t gotta be the same thing at all.  ‘Sides, what would it do to him – his spirit an’ his faith – if’n I showed him I got wings an’ he don’t?_

 

***

It was more than an hour later when Nathan entered the church.  He had the compresses in a covered pan, wrapped in a blanket to keep the heat in as much as possible.  Towels were tucked under his arm; he would wrap the poultices in the towels so as not to burn the skin.

 

But Josiah wasn’t in the nave.  A few candles flickered near the altar, but they were nearly guttering out.  Steadier light shone through the cracked-open door that led to Josiah’s room, off to one side of the altar.

 

“Josiah?” He pushed open the door to find Josiah stretched out face down on his bed, face buried in his pillow, back bare.  The muscles all along the length of his back were so tense he could see them quivering beneath the skin.  _Must be in a whole lotta pain,_ he thought, hurrying in.  “Just be still now,” he said, making his voice soft, soothing, ‘cause he’d seen folk respond well to that before.  “Get you fixed up soon as I can…”  Hands moving quickly and surely, he pulled out one of the poultices, wrapped it in a towel and laid it square on Josiah’s shoulders.

 

Josiah hissed at the heat, tensing even more before the warmth penetrated, then slowly began to relax.  Nathan bore down a little on the compress, forcing more heat against Josiah’s back, then left off to wrap up another.  He pressed it to another spot just over Josiah’s shoulder blade, and felt the tautness ease even further.

 

After a moment, he straightened away, and Josiah made a kind of unhappy sound – not quite a groan.  “Jest let them poultices work,” Nathan said, patting one muscled arm.  “I’ll change ‘em in a bit.”

 

Josiah sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled his hand away, and moved, reaching out to grab him.  “Nathan, don’t…”

 

Immediately, Nathan took his hand, gently forcing him back into position on his front.  “Gotta change ‘em, they lose heat real fast…”

 

“No,” Josiah managed, clinging tightly to Nathan’s hand.  “Strange as it sounds… it didn’t hurt as much while you were touching my arm.”

 

He paused, not quite sure what to say to that, and Josiah squeezed his fingers hard.  “I’m not makin’ that up,” Josiah insisted, his voice a rumble.  “It still hurts, but not as much now.”

 

“Might just be the poultices,” Nathan offered half-heartedly.  _Just... I want it to be true,_ he thought.  _Wanna have that healin’ touch…_   “They still hot?” he asked, pulling his hand away, but covering Josiah’s with it.

 

“Yeah, but they aren’t helpin’ much now,” Josiah replied, and squirmed a little.  “Feel heavy, like they’re pressin’ down on somethin’…”

 

“Shh, now, let me see.”  Mindful of what Josiah had claimed and hoping that he wasn’t hearing only what he wanted to hear, Nathan kept one hand on Josiah’s back while he felt the compress.  “Should still be doin’ some good,” he said, judging the heat coming off one.  “They don’t cool down that fast…” Cautiously, he lifted the bundle, and froze.

 

Josiah’s shoulders were… rippling.  The skin stretched and grew thin, just as if something inside was tryin’ to get _out_.

 

“Nathan?” Josiah’s breathing quickened, and sweat began to roll down his temples.  “Oh, merciful Christ!”  He thrashed, back heaving, shoulders straining, doing everything he could to escape the pain.

 

“Lay quiet now!” Careful as he could be, Nathan pushed him down, staring at the reddened skin where the poultices had been, where the skin pulled and expanded with something growing rapidly beneath…

 

 _He got wings, too,_ he thought.  _Just like me… This is just like what happened to me…_   Josiah bucked against his hold, and he moved, trying to find a place he wouldn’t get hurt himself.  “You don’t be still, you gonna hurt yourself,” he said, his tone coming out natural and commanding, just like it did with any patient.

 

“Nathan…” The way that deep voice pleaded with him just about broke his heart.  Leaving his study of Josiah’s back, he crouched down beside the bed, looking into the pained blue eyes, and grabbed a towel to dab at the sweat beading his friend’s face.

 

“Not much I can do to help, but it’ll be over in a little bit,” he said, trying to make his tone as reassuring as he could.  “It’s gonna hurt, but when the hurtin’s over, you gonna be fine.”  He took a deep breath when Josiah arched and groaned, biting his lip.  “You want somethin’ to bite on?”

 

Grimacing, beyond words, Josiah managed a nod, so he folded the towel and put it in Josiah’s mouth.  Then, laying his hand on Josiah’s arm again – sure that the man would break his fingers if he let him take his hand – he watched with fascination what he had only felt.

 

What stuck with him was there was no blood.  The skin split bloodlessly, all along Josiah’s back, and the wings emerged, growing wider and taller with each heartbeat thundering in his head.  Long flight feathers, the leading edge, the joint where the wings merged into his broad back… within a matter of moments, it seemed, the wings spread to their fullest extent, each one as long as Josiah was tall, or perhaps even longer.

 

But what made Nathan catch his breath was their color.  They were black as night, black as coal, a pair of shadows arcing out of Josiah’s shoulders.  _Why are they black?_ he wondered, barely restraining himself from touching them.  _Why would Josiah’s be so different from mine?_

 

He was so engrossed in his study of Josiah’s wings that he didn’t even notice that Josiah had collapsed back down into the bed, panting around the towel in his mouth, before reaching up to remove it himself.  “Nathan?”

 

He flinched at the sound of his name, then faced Josiah.  “Pain all gone?” he asked, trying to sound normal, trying to smile.

 

“Yes.  What are you lookin’ at?”  Josiah started to twist, then felt the weight on his back, felt something brushing his skin and stopped still, a hint of fright in his expression.  “What’s goin’ on?”

 

Nathan took a deep breath, then met Josiah’s eyes.  “You got wings,” he said, his voice rough and a little unsteady.

 

Josiah just stared, a line not borne of pain forming between his brows.  “What?”

 

He cleared his throat, tried again.  “You got wings… you know, like a bird?  Or maybe…” He trailed off as understanding dawned in Josiah’s face.

 

Josiah carefully levered himself off his front, rolling to one side to better face him.  “An angel?”  There was such _hope_ in Josiah’s voice, and Nathan couldn’t – just _couldn’t_ – bring himself to tell him that they weren’t at all like an angel’s in color.

 

“Yeah,” he said instead, nodding.  “Kinda like that.”

 

“Wings,” Josiah said, pleased and musing all at once.  For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, then he glanced at Nathan again.  “You don’t look shocked,” he said, surprised.  “Why not?”

 

“’Cause I got some of my own.”  Josiah’s mouth dropped open at his words, so he turned away, fussing uselessly with the towels and unused compresses.  “That’s why I was so… tetchy last week.  Had the same pain you did, didn’t know what had happened ‘till I looked in the mirror.”

 

“You went through that all alone?” Josiah’s hand settled warm and gentle on his arm.  “I’m sorry for that, brother,” he rumbled.  “I wish I could have helped you.”

 

“I made it,” Nathan said, a little shortly, and was immediately ashamed.  “Didn’t know what it was – thought it was just a pulled muscle or somethin’.”

 

“Can I see them?”

 

The eagerness in his voice brought Nathan’s head up, and the… contentment, the happiness he wore… Nathan felt his face heat.  _Got no right to judge his wings,_ he scolded himself. _His are different, don’t make no never mind… he’s still the same as he’s always been.  Ain’t no difference there._

 

He just couldn’t shake the thought that his wings being so different from Josiah’s would hurt his friend immensely.

 

Slowly, he nodded, then stood and took off his shirt.  He knew his back was scarred from lash marks, and while he knew he couldn’t change that, part of him was still fiercely ashamed of his past.  Before he could think about it anymore, he closed his eyes, thought about the wings and felt them spring forth.

 

They’d disappeared when he’d fallen asleep, and when he woke up the next morning, they were still gone.  All he’d had to do was just _think_ them there, and they were there again.

 

Behind him, he heard Josiah gasp, heard him roll off the bed.  “Nathan,” he whispered.  “My friend, they are truly angel wings, pure and golden.”

 

He’d seen that in the mirror when he’d looked – his wings were the color of gold, the color of prairie wheat growing in the sun, and he’d almost cried at the sight of them.

 

“They ain’t the same,” he blurted suddenly, not willing to have that unspoken lie between them any longer.  “Yours ain’t the same as mine….”

 

“Well, we ain’t the same people, either,” Josiah said, and Nathan turned, amazed there was no disappointment in his voice.  Josiah was smiling, not that big toothy grin he had when amused, but something gentler.  “I wouldn’t expect them to be exactly the same, anyway.”  Then his smile widened and he asked the question that Nathan had been dreading.  “What are mine like, then?”

 

He gulped.  “They’re black,” he replied, his voice just above a whisper.  “Black…” Then he saw something he hadn’t before, having seen Josiah’s wings mostly from the edge and back.  “And a patch of white… right here.” He gestured toward the secondary flight feathers on his own wings, where on Josiah’s, the rectangular white patch stood out stark against the coal-black like a beacon.

 

Josiah paled in the lantern-light, and staggered back a step.  “Black?” he repeated, and sat down heavily on the bed, instinctively sweeping his wings out of the way.  “Black?”

 

Saddened by the sudden loss of joy, Nathan nodded.  “Yeah.  Black, mostly, with that little bit of white.  Like a priest...”

 

Josiah bowed his head, wings trailing limply behind him, resting his brow on his clasped hands.  Quickly, Nathan wished his wings away and pulled his shirt back on, then sat next to him.

 

“I swore I’d never wear that garb again,” Josiah whispered, his voice breaking slightly over the words.  “Never… and now…”

 

Nathan swallowed, and carefully put his arm around Josiah’s shoulders.  Josiah leaned against him, and he pretended not to notice how his friend shook with grief he couldn’t contain.

 

***

November 6, 2010


End file.
